I adjusted the mask, anxiety spiking that I might be recognized, but a scan in the full-length bathroom mirror at Intensity disproved my fears. With my hair slicked back and the mask skintight, I was unrecognizable even to myself. Besides, I wasn’t there to have sex, just watch and get the lay of the land.
It had been well over a year since I’d been to a club. Every once in a while I’d get the itch, but sometimes it would be when we were on the road, where I couldn’t do much to scratch it. If I was home, I’d go, and though I got off, it left me empty. Hollow. Maybe because I knew the sex would never lead to anything.
My heart pounding, I walked out of the restroom, eyes and ears adjusting to the sights and sounds of the club. Intensity was housed in a large brownstone in Manhattan, innocuous from the outside and indistinguishable from the other grand homes on the block. Your irises were scanned upon entry, and then the interior door opened as if into another world.
Three floors of decadence awaited. The top floor held the private rooms reserved for people who wanted their intimate times…intimate, only witnessed by the two of them. The second floor showcased open rooms for couples who enjoyed their sexy times in public and, if they chose, with audience participation.
The main floor salon was for mingling—no open sexual activity, although I’d spied kissing and light fondling among some couples. A dining room in the rear held an opulent buffet. Below the stairs on the lower floor was the kitchen, which kept up a steady replenishment of refreshments. And, I remembered reading in the brochure, the basement held playrooms, where anything went and people lived out their secret fantasies. I was way too vanilla for that.
For my first visit, I wore a yellow pin, which meant I would have to give permission to be touched or kissed. I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped, stepping fully into the parlor and taking in the scene. Classical music played softly in the background, and I leaned against the fireplace mantel, seeing if anyone caught my eye. Which someone did. He stood at the far end of the spacious room, staring up at a magnificent oil painting of a soldier riding on a horse. The stranger, well-built but not overly muscular, filled out a pair of sleek navy pants, the gorgeous curve of his ass like a peach, ripe for the plucking.
The sight of him, with his thick dark hair curling past his ears, sent my stomach into free fall. Strange because I’d always been more attracted to blonds, but the pull to meet him was strong. I couldn’t allow anyone else to get to him first. I crossed the room to stand by his side.
“Beautiful painting, isn’t it?”
The man blinked, outrageously long lashes framing pretty eyes of deep, rich brown. They might be his natural color, or they could be contact lenses. I couldn’t blame him. I also wore colored lenses, turning my blue-green eyes a slate gray.
“It is,” he murmured, his voice smooth and subdued. “I’m not surprised, though. The entire house is like a museum. It’s stunning.”
“Not your first time?” I asked, enjoying the dance. My nerves buzzed with an excitement I hadn’t felt in years, and my belly fluttered. His lips, full and soft, enticed. I wanted to kiss him.
“No, but it’s been a while.”
“Ah. You were…involved?”
He dipped his head in answer.
I touched my mask. “I’m new to the city but not to this scene.”
“Oh? So you know how it works?” A smile creased his cheek. “I see you do, as you’re wearing your pin. Yellow, like me.”
His fingers caressed the small piece of metal on his lapel, and my pants grew tighter, wishing those elegant fingers were wrapped around my aching dick.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I figured I’d take it slow.”
“Slow can be good.” His tongue swiped over his full lower lip. “I personally prefer getting to know someone before….” He bowed his head, a red flush creeping up his neck. I had a crazy urge to press my lips to the place where that sweet curve to his shoulder began. Jesus, this wild, uncontrollable desire hadn’t happened to me since my mystery man in California.
“Yeah. Is that what we’re doing here? Getting to know each other?” I took a chance, leaned in closer, and watched his eyes widen. Heard his breath hitch. My fingertip played along his clean-shaven jaw, and he swayed toward me. “Can I kiss you?” Anticipation fluttered in my belly, and my lips tingled.
Like a frightened deer, the man jumped away. “No, I’m sorry. I-I can’t.” To my shock, he fled the room.
Dammit. I’d moved too fast. I’d broken my rule of taking things slow.
Hoping to catch him and apologize, I took several steps, when someone planted himself in front of me.
“Hello. You’re new here, aren’t you?”
His face was all angles and planes, shiny black hair setting off large blue eyes. If the way he filled out his Italian suit was any indication, he matched me in weight. Heat poured off him, and he reached out and ran a finger over my button.
“I am,” I answered.
“And you’re yellow. Are you sure you want to just watch and wait? Or can I persuade you otherwise?”
I gently moved his hand away. “Not tonight.”
“Too bad,” he said with true regret. “I’d really love to taste your ass.”
Startled by his boldness, I shook my head. “Sorry to disappoint.”
